Each day before we go in public
We put on a mask.
We cover up who we really are inside.
To become what the world wants,
Who they want us to be.
We are never our real self.

Each place we go,
Each person we're around,
Requires a new, different mask.
Because we change so often
We are eventually lost.

Slowly we have lost sight of ourselves.
Who we are is gone.
Amongst the world,
We have become its puppet.

We cry alone at night.
Because we just don't know anymore
Who we really are.

We're being pushed to perfection.
When all along,

Perfection was another series of masks.